


they thought they were made for each other

by orphan_account



Series: Fill the Void [35]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jeremy and Ryan have known each other for years and have helped each other out of difficult places more times than they can count.They love each other. That much is true. But how long can their love last in a life of danger and crime?
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Series: Fill the Void [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663750
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	they thought they were made for each other

They get hitched across the border under false names and a generous bribe to the country clerk. It feels a bit rushed, but both of them like to live life fast. Neither of them have ever thought that they’d make it this far. They don’t swap names. Nothing stereotypical like that. Their rings are some penny plastic things Jeremy won at a fair they stopped by at. They don’t have any money to spend on proper rings, but they figure they’ve got plenty of time down the road to invest in something more permanent.

Outside on the courtroom steps, Ryan turns to hold Jeremy’s hands. “Mr. Haywood,” he says.

“Mr. Dooley,” he says.

They smile and burst into laughter, Jeremy falling easily into Ryan’s arms as he stands a few steps below him.

“Where to now?” Ryan asks.

Jeremy shrugs. “Anywhere. Absolutely anywhere.”

* * *

They met for the first time when Jeremy’s thirteen and Ryan’s seventeen. They were neighbours, both in the same style welfare house, each with a not so great family situation—ie. not really having one. At first their relationship could be called calf love, in that Jeremy’s besotted by the next door neighbour who’s older, could drive, and that Jeremy found pleasing to look at. They bonded over their family situation and the fact that this was Jeremy’s third time moving in his short life.

“I miss my old house,” he said. “There used to be a big tree in the backyard that I could climb all the time. I liked hiding up there.”

“I know of a big tree,” Ryan said. “Just down the street. It leads to the dog park. Come on.”

It was if Ryan understood Jeremy’s need to hide sometimes. To just get away from it all and not worry about what on down on the ground below.

He liked Ryan because Ryan was his big friend. It made him feel like there was someone to watch over him, and with Ryan he actually felt safe.

* * *

He’s not sure what the reason is that they turn to crime. It’s a mix of they need money and neither of them have the skills or the patience for work as convenient store clerks or washing dishes. They don’t like being tethered down in one place for too long. Both want to see the world, gain access to something that was previously denied to them because of their circumstances. They usually stick around long enough to make a bit of money to keep Ryan’s motorcycle running and so they can eat and sleep at a roadside motel.

“I think I found a job,” Ryan says one night as they sit at the small table in their cramped motel room. “It’s not exactly … _legal_?”

“Okay,” Jeremy says as he circles a fry around in a gravy cup. “If you think it’s something we can do, then I don’t care.” He really doesn’t. So long as he gets to be with Ryan and nothing’s going to change that.

“Well, we just need to pass something from one place to another.”

“So like drug smuggling?”

Ryan shrugs. “I didn’t ask. Didn’t think they’d want me to.”

“How much are we getting paid?”

“Five hundred.”

Jeremy nearly chokes on his fry. “Then what are we waiting for? Come on!”

Five hundred would keep them warm and feed for a long time.

“Jeremy, wait,” Ryan says, pulls him back down to sit. “If we do this … if we get caught, we get sent to jail. Are you sure? Because there’s no turning back after this. I mean. What if they want to use us for more services?”

So Jeremy sits and gathers Ryan’s hands in his own. “As long as I get to be with you, I’m fine with this.”

Ryan nods curtly. “Okay.”

* * *

When Jeremy’s fourteen, he woke to shouting and a door slamming. The window in his room faced Ryan’s house, so sometimes he’d see things he probably shouldn’t. When he looked over, he saw Ryan sat on the front porch of his house. The clock showed 12: 15, shortly after midnight. Jeremy opened the window of his room and shimmied down the garden trellis so he could run over to Ryan.

“Ryan,” he said. “What happened?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and huffed. “Hey, Jeremy,” he said, putting on a smile, but Jeremy knew it was for his benefit. Keep the kid protected, well Jeremy wasn’t just _some_ kid. He could see the way Ryan’s cheek was red under the street lights.

“What happened?” Jeremy asked.

Ryan tucked his hands between his knees. “Got kicked out.”

“Why?” he asked.

He shrugged. “Probably ‘cause I’m eighteen. My foster parents … I don’t exactly have the best relationship with them.”

“Oh. Well, you can’t just sleep outside. I bet you can climb up to my window. You’re _way_ taller than me.”

Ryan looked shocked at first. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Come on. It’s cold.”

It took very little convincing to get Ryan to tumble into his bedroom after that. Jeremy pressed his ear to the door, made sure his parents weren’t coming to see why he was making so much noise.

They made a makeshift bed on the floor out of towels, thin blankets and a second pillow Jeremy didn’t really need. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but Ryan didn’t complain. He was gone before Jeremy woke up, but he left a note in Jeremy’s notebook.

_Thanks for letting me stay. See you around._

Ryan was gone and so was Jeremy’s sense of peace.

* * *

They begin to make a reputation for themselves as a pair, a dynamic duo as it were. They keep the nature of their marriage a secret, thinking that it might come off as a weakness point as they both get deeper into a life of crime. They move up from delivery to protection detail and soon they’re being given weapons and told to act as security at certain locations. The money is good. They only work on a contract basis, only sticking around for a few months until they’re off.

They go by other names to give themselves a sense of distance between their employers and who they are when it’s just them.

Ryan goes with Vagabond. (“Okay. This may sound cheesy, but the Vagabond is a name I went by in my old D and D group when I was a teenager. Wh—Jeremy, _stop laughing._ ”)

Jeremy goes by Rimmy Tim. (“It’s just as stupid as the Vagabond, Ryan. _Shut up.”_ )

They’re dumb names, but then again most criminals choose dumb names to go by, so they fit in with the crowd. Especially when they start dressing up a bit. Ryan starts wearing face paint, grows out his hair. Adds into his persona. Jeremy chooses to wear flashy colours, says it’s like a form of peacocking. Purple pants and an orange shirt he picked up from the last time they stopped by a thrift store. It works for them, makes them less noticeable when they’re just posing as civilians in the day time.

Jeremy thinks this new life for them might just work.

They get enough money to buy Jeremy a used wedding ring. It’s a bit too large on him. He mostly wears it on his thumb or on a chain around his neck. Ryan does something different. He gets a tattoo around his ring finger, a simple design with a strong sense of permanence and _mine._ They’re not a conventional married couple, but they make it work for them, and it’s good.

* * *

It was hard for Jeremy not to have Ryan just next door, but as it turned out, he didn’t leave Jeremy forever. He was still in town, picking up work where he could. He just so happened to work at the convenient store Jeremey could visit to buy energy drinks on his lunch break from school. It was like their friendship had been put on hold. It was nice to see that Ryan was doing okay. Jeremy hoped he was living in a safe place. They kept their interactions brief and fleeting. It didn’t extend from there until much later when Jeremy was fifteen.

He was sitting on the curb outside the store. It was late. He was hoping he could catch Ryan at the end of his shift, which he did.

“Jeremy? What are you doing here?” He stopped by where Jeremy was sitting.

“Hey, Ryan, um—” He hated how his voice quivered. “So, my mom finally left my dad and—and my dad didn’t take it well, so I guess I’m locked out of the house and, um, I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Hey, Jeremy. It’s okay. You can come back to mine. Come on. Pay back for when you let me sleep on your floor, huh?”

Jeremy nodded and followed Ryan to the bus stop. They took the bus to Ryan’s place and he showed him where he was living for the mean time. The apartment was really just one room and a bathroom. It was cheap and barely furnished, but it was a place to sleep for the night.

“Thanks, Ryan.”

“Any time, Jeremy.”

* * *

Things go wrong eventually when they try to make it on their own. Just as ruthless freelancers picking up work wherever they could, going off contract, getting paid cold, hard cash and it feels pretty great. Until they tangle with the wrong group and now they’re being hunted.

“It’d be better if we split up,” Ryan says. “It’s our only option at this point.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “No, no we’re _not_ splitting up. We’ll just … we’ll find a car. Hijack and it make it to the west coast. Start there. I mean, how much could it cost us to start over? I mean, really.”

But Ryan turns such sad eyes towards him. “Jeremy, I think—”

Before he can get the next words out, gun fire shatters the window of their motel window. Ryan falls to the ground like he’s been pushed. He groans and holds a hand over his shoulder. He’s been shot.

“Rye—”

“Just go!”

Jeremy leaves out the back window of the bathroom just as Ryan’s pulling himself to sit up and get a gun and return fire.

Jeremy runs and he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t stop until he gets to another motel outside of the city, pays in cash and hides out. His phone is resting on the night table charging. He’s sitting by the door, peering out the window with a gun in his hands, just in case someone’s tracked him down.

He waits for a phone call. Waits for two days.

He pulls on a hoodie and goes back to the previous motel. It’s been crossed off by police tape, but he gets onto the scene, gets into the motel room to see if Ryan’s left him a message hidden somewhere just in case Jeremy came back for him.

He only finds a lot of blood. _A lot_ of blood.

It can really only mean one thing, but Jeremy refuses to believe it. He refuses to believe it for a very long time.

Ryan is dead, and he’s alone.

* * *

Their friendship got complicated as the months went by. Jeremy was starting to develop feelings for Ryan that Ryan simply wasn’t returning. Jeremy spent more time at Ryan’s apartment as he got older, his dad simply getting unbearable at home since his mother up and left one day.

See the thing was, Jeremy wanted Ryan more in just a friendship way. He enjoyed Ryan’s company. He thought he was funny. He was smart. He made Jeremy feel appreciated and noticed. But Ryan was always sure to keep some distance between him and Jeremy on the couch. Always just patting Jeremy on the shoulder when _clearly_ Jeremy was going in for a hug.

Then Ryan explained himself. “I’m twenty-one and you’re _seventeen._ That’s not … we can’t, Jeremy.”

Jeremy deflated a little. “I get it. Fine. You don’t want me around.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t mind you. Just … when you’re eighteen, okay? Make me feel less weird.”

Jeremy nodded. “I think I can deal with that.”

Four years didn’t seem like such a big deal to Jeremy, but to Ryan it was a deal breaker. So they waited.

“Even though I’m turning in eighteen in less than an hour, can I have a kiss?” he asked.

He found that Ryan couldn’t actually say ‘no’ to him. So he got his kiss and when he turned eighteen, he got something more.

“I’m planning on leaving town,” Ryan said. “I got my motorcycle licence and a motorcycle. Do you want to come with me?”

He answered Ryan with a kiss.

* * *

He finally makes it to Los Santos years later. He has a job opportunity here, and if he wants to make it big, then Los Santos is the place to be.

He still goes by Rimmy Tim, but he only markets himself. There’s no longer two of them, but just him, and he’s gotten used to that. He still has the ring, a symbol of better times that have long since passed. But the life Jeremy chose a long time ago doesn’t have room for mourning. He just has to keep moving on.

He’s picked up new skills on the way. Some computer and various tech skills that enables him to bypass security systems and break in to more upper class homes.

He moves to Los Santos to work with a notorious group—the Fakes. They like his style. The purple and orange and recently added cowboy hat make for an image they want to make use of. Geoff—the apparent leader of the group—likes his style and thinks he’ll fit right in. He’s to start today.

He meets the crew in a penthouse. The Fakes seem like they’re bleeding money and he’d be right. They’re filthy rich. They have dinner with him. Something extremely casual that’s a plus in Jeremy’s book. It seems like they honestly care about who they work with.

“Ah, and here’s the man of the hour,” Geoff says.

Jeremy turns to see a man in a black skull mask at the entry way, wearing a leather jacket and black jeans.

“Tim, that’s the Vagabond. Vagabond, this is our boy Tim here. He’s new.”

 _Vagabond_. The name still clicks for him, but Jeremy pushes it down. It’s been years since he’s heard that name, and if Ryan were truly alive, he’d have found Jeremy by now.

The rest of the night is casual, and Jeremy ends it by getting out onto the balcony and surveying it from a height. He’s never been in such a large city and he’s proud he’s made it this far.

The Vagabond joins him later on, still wearing the mask, clearly not dressing down for anyone, not even his crew. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet,” the Vagabond says, pulling off a glove and extending his hand.

“Yeah, should’ve been here on time, pal.”

The masked man laughs. “Yeah, I deserve that. Let’s start over then.”

Thinking he should probably be on good terms with all of them, Jeremy turns to shake hands with the other man. “Jeremy,” he says.

“Ryan,” the Vagabond says.

They shake hands, and Jeremy looks down briefly and sees a tattoo on the Vagabond’s ring finger.


End file.
